


In the dry desert wind

by naye



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Vignette, background Hawke/Anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naye/pseuds/naye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric won't let Hawke leave without saying goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the dry desert wind

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after 'Here Lies the Abyss' in Inquisition, because Hawke left far too abruptly.

Stumbling dizzy from the Fade, Hawke wanted nothing more than to regain her balance - and not just by the solid ground guaranteed to be beneath her feet while the sky stayed up above, but in herself. The experience - the whole haunted, ghastly world with the taunting voice and the painful echoes of the pitiful and suffering dead ending with a life lost - had shaken her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like - or at least cautiously respected - Varric’s new friends. But the Inquisitor had heard the demon’s words to her; had seen her accept her own salvation at the cost of another’s life. She isn’t about to stay and discuss either of those things, and definitely does not wish to linger in this fortress of carnage of the Grey Wardens’ own making. 

The line about Weisshaupt makes for a convenient excuse to melt away from the Inquisitor’s party and into the soft shadows of the moonlit fort. It does also saddle her with an errand that will take months to complete, but it is worth it to get away from that too-sharp gaze. 

With Adamant so recently won, only the injured and most deeply exhausted of the Inquisition’s forces have taken to their bedrolls. The rest are still milling about, doing a thousand urgent things, all directed by the visibly exhausted but impressively stubborn Cullen. This role of commander suits him, Hawke thinks as she silently ducks her head and quiets her footfalls when passing him handing out orders. Maybe she’ll write Varric and ask him mention that, once she’s away from here. 

She remembers the layout of the fortress well enough that she knows she can find her way to the front gates, but she has no provisions, and the wastes are not kind to unprepared wanderers. Despite her desire to avoid all company, she stops a harried scout to ask for directions to one of the Inquisition’s quartermasters. And it is on the way there, crossing a sandy courtyard strewn with rubble to get to one of the sturdy wagons loaded down in supplies, that Varric catches her.

“No goodbyes for an old friend, Hawke? I’m hurt.” 

Varric’s voice snares her in mid-step, and Hawke turns to him with a wry grin. His brows are knit with unusual gravity, despite the teasing lightness of his tone. “I did say I was heading to Weisshaupt.”

“Yes, and I figured you meant after some sleep, maybe? And a chat. Definitely a chat, at least.”

The mere mention of sleep makes Hawke’s skin prickle with unease. True, she can’t do without it forever, but for now she is happy enough to put off that unwilling return to the Fade. There would be nothing but nightmares and guilt waiting for her there. “I was hoping to get a head start on Corypheus.” 

“What, by running out of Adamant into the Western Approach in the middle of the night?”

“You can’t get a head start if you sleep in, Varric,” Hawke deflects Varric’s concern.

“And you can’t arrive at Weisshaupt in less than two months, by which time the ancient immortal magister will already be well aware of every single thing that has happened here - and in the rest of Thedas.”

Hawke shrugs an uncomfortable acknowledgement of that fact. She probably can’t beat Corypheus to the punch just by delivering the news she has to the Wardens. But she _can_ beat anyone who decides to go for idiotic tactics like _turn themselves into blood sacrifices_ or try to summon bigger demons to beat Corypheus’ demons.

“Hawke.” Varric looks at her with worried care, his kind eyes shadowed by her actions. “You’re running away.”

Hawke snorts, and looks away. She doesn’t deny it, but focuses on anything but Varric’s face - the sand dunes in the courtyard look silky blue in the light, shimmering and smooth. Lothering, Kirkwall - yes, she’d learned the hard way that sometimes running away is the only option if you want to get anywhere at all. “I need to be somewhere else. Is that so strange?”

“It’s fine, Hawke. I don’t mind. I just - I was hoping to talk to you about what happened.”

“Well, unless you brought a barrel of Corff’s strongest stuff along, that is not going to happen.” Talking about the Fade is the last thing Hawke wants - it’s too raw, too painful, and far too unsettling to dwell on for a multitude of reasons.

Varric sighs. “Listen. I know it’s hard, losing a friend. If you hadn’t come back--” Varric swallows, and the crack in his voice draws Hawke’s attention, but now he’s the one studying the sand intently. “I’m glad you came back, is all.”

“Thanks,” Hawke murmurs, unsure of how much she can say before she’s accidentally into _talking about what happened_ territory. She would have no way to handle that, not even with such a good listener as her friend. “Varric,” she says, and it draws her friend’s gaze back up to hold hers. “I am sorry I’m going. I miss you. We all do.” Hawke hasn’t told him about leaving Anders with Isabela and Fenris, not with as many words - it would be an unkindness to burden him with knowledge the Inquisition might need from him while asking him to keep their secrets. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t guessed, and knows who ‘we all’ are.

Varric smiles. “Aw, Hawke.”

“But you’re in a good place, here, with good people. The Inquisitor, Cullen - even Cassandra.” For all that the woman had kidnapped her friend, Hawke had to admit she was a formidable power - someone she would have liked to get to know under better circumstances.

With a nod, Varric agrees with everything Hawke is saying. “Also, Weisshaupt is in the ass-end of nowhere, Hawke. I don’t envy you that trip.”

Hawke smiles humorlessly. “I got myself good with that one, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. If you don’t go now, everyone will know.”

Hawke sighs. “And it’s just as well. Someone’s got to go up there and see what in the name of Andraste’s tits these menaces are up to - killing the Divine? Helping Corypheus? They may have been manipulated into some of it, but - you were there in the Vimmarks, Varric. What do you think?”

“I think there’s been too many Blights and too few Wardens, and what’s left of them isn’t what it was - and isn’t what they want us to think they are.”

The night wind out here is warm, but Varric’s words are enough to make Hawke shiver with cold, clammy foreboding. “Yeah,” she says quietly, remembering arriving too late to stop one more blood sacrifice - thinking of all the dead strewn around Adamant. “So - not such a bad idea after all?”

“No, it’s a terrible idea. But someone’s got to do it, and I can’t think of anyone else better suited.”

Hawke snorts. “Thanks?”

Varric smiles at her. “Don’t mention it.” Then his expression grows somber again, and his tone - alarmingly - matches it. “Hawke…”

“Oh, no. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Varric shrugs. “There could be. I’m still not entirely sure, but if you’re leaving - it’s best you hear this from me.”

“Oh, Maker. Did something happen? Are they all alright? Bethany - you haven’t heard anything from Bethany?”

Varric raises his hands. “Whoa, whoa. No, of course not - everyone’s fine!” He pauses, amends his statement. “Last I heard from everyone, they were fine. Even Daisy, off on wild elven adventures.”

“Then what is it?” Hawke frowns, trying to figure out what ominous news her friend could possibly be so hesitant to share.

“Like I said, I’m not sure.”

“Fine, you’re not sure. _What is it_?”

Varric draws a deep breath, and his uneasy tension makes Hawke’s guts knot with apprehension.

“There’s a rumor going around that the S -- that there’s a way to sort of get a Tranquil back.”

“To get them back?” Hawke blinks at him, the words slow to sink in. This was not what she expected.

“To kind of undo the Rite of Tranquility,” Varric clarifies with a wince.

“To undo…” Hawke’s eyes widen, and the knot of apprehension tightens into one of sick anguish. Not so much for herself, but… “Anders,” she whispers. “I can’t tell him - he can’t know.”

“Yeah,” Varric grimaces. He was there too, that night they went to the Gallows, and watched Anders’ give his lover the death he begged for. Death before Tranquility. “But like I said - it’s a rumor. It’s not going to go away.”

“And is it true?” Hawke stares at Varric, hoping for some sign that she can relax, that this is just a misunderstanding and it will all go away before it can do any more damage to her love - Anders has been savaged by too many things in his life already; he doesn’t need more horrible regret. 

“I don’t know,” Varric says, but as Hawke stays silent and staring, he shifts, relents. He sighs, sadly. “I think so. I heard it from -- it doesn’t matter who I heard it from, but I believe them. They -- uh. I wasn’t supposed to know, I think, but I overheard, and… I think it’s true, yeah.”

Hawke draws a sharp breath, her lungs aching from the emotion tightening her chest. “Well, shit,” she says, coaxing the ghost of a smile from Varric.

“You can say that again.”

“I will,” Hawke promises him. “And you don’t have any details, it’s not… We can’t start doing it?” The Circles they have freed pass before her mind’s eye - all those Tranquil with nowhere to go, dead emotions trapped in living bodies

“No, there’s a reason I said ‘sort of’ - whatever the reversal does right now, it messes with those poor bastards’ minds in a completely new sort of way. Leaves them… wrong. Not who they were.”

“But eventually, it could be done?” Hawke doesn’t know which would be worse - to have the despair that is Tranquility persist across all of Thedas, permanent and unchanging, or to have some hope of recovery exist only for it to be too late for too many people like Karl and Anders.

“Look, I’m not a mage - I don’t know any of that shit.”

“But you hear things, Varric. And you hear them from people who _know_.” And who might that have been? There were certainly enough mages in the Inquisitor’s party - one of them, perhaps?

“Only very accidentally.”

Hawke snorts. “Accidentally. Of course.” She shifts, leaning closer to Varric although nobody is close enough to overhear. “Will you share anything new you learn?”

Varric hesitates. 

“Please, Varric. You said it yourself - if the word is out there, it _will_ reach him eventually. It’s better it come from me, and if I can share anything else with him…”

“Fine. Alright.”

Still sick to her stomach, the world unfairly dropped from beneath her feet again despite being out of the Fade, Hawke manages a smile. “Thanks, Varric.”

“Only if I overhear something accidentally, mind you. I’m not about to dig any deeper into this weird shit. I’ve got more than enough of that already.”

“That you do,” Hawke nods. “And that would be enough, I think. To have something…”

“I hope it helps,” Varric says. “We don’t want Blondie getting in a state.”

Hawke quirks her lips in a sardonic smile. “We don’t,” she agrees. The ‘state’ being either full on terrifying Vengeance spirit, or just… blowing things up to fix his problems.

“Well.” Varric says, and looks up at Hawke. “Good luck, then.”

Hawke nods, and tries to remember that she had to get provisions and head out and get away, because with the concern etched in Varric’s face and his voice wavering like that, all she wants to do is break open the nearest barrel and use it as an excuse to stay up and talk with him all night. Just like old times.

“You too,” she says. “Try not to let Corypheus break the world?”

Varric snorts. “Of course we won’t. This is where I keep all my stuff.”

Hawke smiles at the familiar joke. “I’ve missed you, Varric.”

“And here I thought you’d rather head out into a wasteland than have a chat with me.”

“No, I’d just rather head out into a wasteland than have to say goodbye to you. Again.”

“Ah,” Varric says, looking vaguely around the empty courtyard.

“But here we are,” Hawke grates out, trying to avoid having to swallow against her feelings.

“Ready to save the world,” Varric says.

“Yeah,” Hawke agrees.

“Each in our different ways.”

Hawke nods. “Be safe, Varric.”

“Take care of Blondie, Hawke,” Varric says, and Hawke thinks she sees a wet gleam in his eye reflected in the moonlight.

Before she can reconsider, or Varric can evade her, she ducks down and envelops him in a hug. He doesn’t even resist - strong arms wrap around Hawke in return, and for a moment everything is so right and familiar she can almost hear the boisterous tavern common room downstairs and taste the bitter beer Varric always preferred. But that tavern is long ago and far away now, and the cooler hours of the night are growing short.

Hawke straightens reluctantly, and tries to deny the salty prickling behind her eyelids. Varric will be fine; she will be fine. This is just another of those short separations that leaves them with more tales to tell each other when they meet again.

“Until next time, Varric,” she says, and Varric nods shakily.

“See you, Hawke.” He turns abruptly and walks away, leaving Hawke the privacy she needs rub her face into the crook of her arm. She draws a deep breath, and looks up just in time to watch the shadows of an archway swallow her friend’s small form.

“Be safe,” she whispers into the dry wind. Then she hoists her bag onto her shoulder, and heads off to get her provisions.

**Author's Note:**

> Hawke left Anders with Isabela and Fenris in [No Safer Harbor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5601436).


End file.
